


Atlantis

by risquetendencies



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, during the Seirin vs Rakuzan match, winter cup setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:11:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1407769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/pseuds/risquetendencies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prideful guys don't die easy deaths, especially not when they're bid to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atlantis

The sky is overcast, gray clouds blurring together to create one overlarge covering. Temperature wise, there’s a bite of coldness that catches him at his bare hands, causing him to mold his pinkened fingers into a fist in an attempt to force blood back through and warm his extremities to a point where they won’t lose function. Outside the venue, people are hurrying past on either side of him, seeking the regulated warmth of the arena’s interior. A few shoot him furtive glances as they shuffle together in small groups, but he just continues to smirk up at the heavens.

Shougo wouldn’t have ever considered himself to be the prophet or even a wise guy at all, at least in the literal sense of the phrase. Talking big, no matter his opponent – yeah, he’s _that_ kind of wise guy, but never the intellectual.

It’s at least a little bit funny that the careless parting words he’d slung at Tetsuya came to be actualized, and if he could stop reveling in the glory of it, he might find the time to laugh.

Earlier on, about two o'clock, the girl from last night and Shougo had showed up here, him debating whether he felt like putting on his best front and going fishing that evening. He ditched her under the guise of going to buy them both drinks - honestly, did she believe he would, when she bought everything he ate the prior afternoon? - and circled around the building to the opposite side.

A new fishing ground, one could say. The only reason he'd bothered to show up after getting knocked out of the tournament was because girls milled about here constantly in a state of excitement, easy to convince and usually easy on the eyes as well. Their panties were always halfway wet from the testosterone flying around in the games on the court below, so he didn't have to work all that hard to find a little company.

Today was really a treat though. Shougo peeked in from one of the upper stands only to find something absurd transpiring at ground level.

It's not that close a game, but, really, for a dominating team like Rakuzan, he would have expected a larger gap in the score.

Pair that with the fact he can spot several members of Seirin scurrying uselessly around, facing players far more talented than them while their betters sit on the bench, and he wonders what the hell is going on. All at the same time that his mind conjures up a hilarious image of what Akashi's face must be doing about now, trying to understand his opponent's nonsensical strategy. Serves the bastard right. It's about time he encountered something that didn't fit within his designs, his beloved predictions.

 After that, Shougo went outside to have himself a laugh. All those Generation of Miracles prodigies had split up, and it was clear to see that things were no longer as amicable as they once were. They kicked him out to form a more solid starting line-up, but all they'd managed to do was implode and scatter like ashes on the wind. It's the best news he's heard in a while.

There's a certain spring in his step despite the fact that his feet shuffle in what looks like a lazy fashion as he re-enters the building, letting his good humor see him through the areas that are restricted for him and to the hallway outside the Rakuzan locker room.

After vacillating in front of the door, listening to the muffled sounds of chatter from inside, he turns and backs off to around the corner, shoulders slouched against the wall and ears perked, waiting. It doesn't take long. They're all so orderly, their amalgam of personalities having no bearing on the fact that each member knows their job and doesn't skirt it for a second, filing one by one back out towards the court. Shougo pauses until the door shuts behind the slowest one and then carries out what he'd came here for.

It was a hunch, but a correct one. When Shougo pries open the metal door, Seijuro is still seated on one of the benches, leafing through a notebook with both words and diagrams printed in it. Mismatched irises view him emotionlessly as he strides closer, a sneer stretching out his lips.

"That's a great game you're running out there, Akashi," he throws out, shoulders hunched as he leans over into the captain's personal space. "Must be tough going up against such strong players. I just wanted to congratulate you for managing to keep the lead."

"I'm sorry, but can you move? There is only a limited time until I must return to the court." Akashi's voice has almost a hushed quality to it, as if he doesn't need to speak loudly to be heard. That in of itself starts to piss Shougo off - people who can remain that impassive are the most annoying types of people. They think they are naturally better than others, so they put a minimum of passion into their words and expect them to be treated as gospel. "You are free to watch the remainder of our match, but you do not belong _here_."

Knee jerk reaction - his hands fly forward and pinch the front of the redhead's jersey, yanking his slender frame up off the bench. Teeth bared, he demands, "Your little group seems to have split up. Tell me again how by getting rid of me, the team was gonna be so perfect?"

Akashi tilts his chin up, supremely passive for someone dangling off the floor. His gaze challenges Haizaki, daring him to go through with the violence that's in his heart. While he waits for a response to his taunt, he pictures the scenario where Akashi gives up on using his words and fights, like a _normal person_. That would be the day. Would that intimidating aura translate well to his fists? He doubts it. ' _I'd love to see how that face of yours wears a couple of black eyes_   _and a few less teeth_ ,' he thinks errantly, eyes growing dull as he slips into his imagination.

His subsequent fantasies are dispelled by a soft clearing of the throat, and a heterochromatic stare that seems to look down on him even though Seijuro's the one physically below.

"You have talent. You were dismissed because your personality stood in the way of you ever amounting to anything with that talent." The statement is matter-of-fact, Akashi's tone unchanged from the initial time. "Even now, all I see is you letting it go to waste. When you battled with Ryouta, you could not even defeat him because he has grown and made himself stronger. Instead you allowed your potential to rot, leaving you in the mess you find yourself in currently. I cannot work with someone who has no will to improve themselves. That is all, Shougo."

Hands begin to shake, his grip unsteady.

"Fuck you, Akashi," he echoes, tongue trailing briefly over his chapped lips, "You're the one who's let it go to waste, letting everyone run off to different schools so you could have one big pissing match here. Not me. I could care less which one of you takes the trophy. So long as it has one of your names on it, it's tainted."

He releases his grasp, scowling when Akashi lands gracefully on his two feet.

"...But if you lose to Tetsuya, then well, I suppose that'd at least be interesting enough to watch."

Haizaki hurries out along the corridor as fast as his feet can carry him, pain brewing in his mind and anger pulsing through his veins. These are old and familiar feelings, and they feel more welcome than even his earlier glee had. He's right back where he's always been, stomped on by the world and shown precisely where his niche in it is. It's better than being pitied, at least, and for that much, there's a sense of relief.

Buried in the mud is the only place that he's ever felt at home. The desperate side of him can struggle all he wants, but there is no good person underneath his varying levels of debauchery. Akashi saw it, and in his own dignified way relegated Shougo to the status where he belongs - on the fringe, someone not fit to walk amongst the stars.

 Well, if that's the case, he won't waste his valuable freedom with dicks like Akashi any more. There's a reason he cut all ties after Teikou and it's about damn time he remembered that.


End file.
